


Firelight

by formyking (skinman)



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Children, F/M, Fireflies, Pre-Relationship, chilldhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:39:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4645959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinman/pseuds/formyking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a night in the summer 1549 when two royal children slipped quietly from their rooms, chancing harsh punishment, to watch fireflies dance at the waters edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firelight

“Mary, quickly! I hear someone coming!” Francis hissed as Mary fumbled with the key in the door, a small smile on her sweet, young face.

If the little Dauphin and the French Queen’s Scottish ward were caught sneaking out into the grounds together at night it would not be received well, the children would surely be punished. Francis knew both his mother an father could be cruel at times and he did not wish to test their faith him. He was already only his father’s second favourite son, despite being the crown prince, it would be embarrassing to relinquish that position in the King’s heart to a little brother that couldn’t even sit up by himself yet.

Francis’ blonde curls swung in an agitated fashion as he looked behind them, checking on the empty, dim-lit corridor of the castle.

“You worry too much Francis. I hear nothing.” The little girl rebuked him as the door opened with a click of the lock and a creak of the hinges.

Francis could no longer hear the soft slap of shoes against cold stone. Perhaps he had imagined the sound, and it was merely a fiction of his terror at the thought of being caught. The young prince huffed, he didn’t want to have to admit to Mary that she was right, but she was, often.

“Come.” The girl told him, pulling on the edge of his sleeve lightly, her touch gentle but insistent. She led him through the door, opening up into the vast palace gardens, beautiful even in moonlight. Perhaps even more beautiful under the soft, white light of the moon and stars rather than the harsh, beating rays of the sun.

The door clicked back into place behind them as the two children leant against it.

The flower beds blocked Francis’ view of the lake fully, but he could see it glisten, not unlike the diamonds in his mother’s crown.

He tugged his cloak around himself, struggling with the hook; the little prince was yet unaccustomed to dressing himself, as he had always been dressed by servants.

Mary sighed softly, watching the boy struggle.

“Look.” Mary reached for the clasp, batting Francis’ fumbling hands from it. “The little hook goes through the hole, the eye.” She did as she spoke, securing his cloak.

“I know that…” Francis was quick to defend his pride. “I just couldn’t see it properly that’s all.”

“The guard won’t patrol past this spot for a while yet, we should go now.” Mary redirected the conversation, peering into the furthermost reaches of the darkness, to the edge of the woods.

Eager to regain control, Francis said, “I’ll go first, follow me closely Mary.”

She nodded agreement. This was Francis’ home, he knew the way better than her.

Francis ran out from the safety of the castle walls with all its helpful nooks and crannies, perfect for concealing a small person or child, as the children of the castle had discovered in endless games of hide and seek.

Mary followed, suppressing a laugh, her chest filling with joy at the freedom, the careless, beautiful freedom of their actions. The force of the air as they ran built, pressing on them, cloaks billowing out behind them. Small feet thundering against the French earth.

When they reached the cover of the trees by the lake they were panting through their grins, making sound that could only be described as somewhere between a laugh and a wheeze.

They made it.

“Now where?” Mary asked, eyes burning for more adventure, her breath slowly being recovered.

“Follow me.” Francis held out his hand, his cloudless blue eyes filled with the very same fire as her deep, dark brown ones.

Mary took it, grabbed it without hesitation, “Is it far?”

“Not far.” He answered Mary, her hand warm in his.

The young prince led her toward the lake, looking back and raising his finger to his lips to communicate that from now on they should be quiet.

“Close your eyes, Mary. It’ll be better that way.” Francis whispered, his grip on her tightening a moment to reassure her.

The girl hesitated.

“I promise you.” He continued, his gaze insistent.

Mary reluctantly let her eyelids fall, “If I end up in the lake Francis I shall fill your favourite boots full of cherry compote.”

The boy laughed despite himself, trying to muffle the sound with his sleeve. They walked a few steps, moving through thick undergrowth to the water’s edge.

Francis brought his lips to her ear, “Alright. You may open your eyes.”

Mary held her breath and upon taking in the sight before her forgot to let it go. Tiny flames, sparks, so many of them, dancing against the backdrop of a lake that was already graced with a reflection of the night’s sky. Dark and blue, rippling, bright spots shone from its fickle surface. The water was home to stars, both celestial and earthbound.

A soft, “Oh…” was all she managed.

The little lights spun before the children, lazily. A softness, a calm awareness of her mortality, came to Mary in that moment. One day these little lights would burn out, and so would the one in her own heart, but tonight they were all alive, and brimming with beautiful life.

“One day I shall be old enough to come visit the waters edge every night.” Francis spoke up, his eyes following the sparks as they flew. If he was aware of Mary looking at him he did not let it show. “One day I shall be King and I will command them to dance for me.”

Mary followed his gaze, watching once more. “I do not believe… that fireflies bow to any King, to anyone at all.”

Francis sighed, disappointed but accepting.

“However, I think perhaps that it for the best.” The young queen went on to reason.

Her friend looked to her, observing how the soft light glanced off her features, and how it was no match for the fire, the passion, in her eyes.

“Perhaps there is good reason why the most beautiful things in this world are unpredictable; hard for men to bend to their will.”

A curious expression formed on Francis’ face as he contemplated her words.

“Yes,” He kept his eyes on Mary, “I think perhaps your right.”

The girl laughed, “When we next quarrel I shall remind you of those words.”

“I will be hearing them again soon then.” Francis joined in her laughter.

All too soon twilight rose into midnight and then into the early hours, and still the children sat by the bank, talking and watching intermittently, refusing sleep until they could no longer ward it off.

A few hours before the sun lifted it sleeping head the fireflies began to disappear, fading out of sight one by one, until there were none left.

Francis looked to Mary, to gauge whether she thought they might return to the castle before they were discovered to be missing. A drop of water glistened on the girl’s cheek, creeping slowly down toward her chin, her eyes sparkling with tears.

“Mary?”

“I just wanted them to stay.” She answered in a small voice.

Francis didn’t say anything, but his hand found hers in the undergrowth. Lightly, their fingers gripping one anothers.

A minute passed, but Mary still cried. If anything the tears had grown more earnest.

“Please dry your tears.” Francis flinched to see her like this, irrationally afraid she was in pain. “Look up, Mary. God’s fireflies still reside above us.”

The prince pointed to the sky and Mary’s gaze followed his finger. There they were. Tiny, bright stars reminding her that some things can be counted upon. That the stars would always shine as surely as the sun rises upon the moons retirement each day.

They laid back together, side by side, their hands still intertwined in a reassuring embrace, to watch the stars. Too tired to keep their eyes from closing, the children slumbered, the lapping of the lake and chirping of the crickets their lullaby.

The day broke with a flurry and a panic. Servants questioned and the guards to the nursery threatened with the loss of their heads. Two royal children, the heirs of two powerful nations, gone in the dead of night.

A search party was sent out immediately. It was a new recruit to the guardsmen that found them by the lake. By that point it was nearing mid-day, but still the future king and queen slept, curled up together by the water. They did not wake even as a crowd gathered to observe their recovery, all worry of punishment gone with the fireflies, their minds distracted by dreams forged under starlight.

 

 

 


End file.
